


Victory on the Winds

by Toad1



Series: A Horse With No Name [3]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Battery City, Gen, Teen Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4257444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toad1/pseuds/Toad1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To Battery City, the Scarecrow officials are heroes, protectors, even celebrities. Kobra Kid and Party Poison once looked up to them. But when Kobra meets Korse face-to-face for the first time, he starts to question everything he thought he knew about the legendary man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Victory on the Winds

**Author's Note:**

> This was based off a prompt from Tumblr: "I was wondering if maybe you could do a ficlet about them maybe in the city or just getting out or something.. I didn't see any ficlets like this and I wanted to see how you would write them in the city"

The green Kiki Kikuchi’s logo grinned at Kobra Kid as he pushed open the door and hurried back inside. The familiar fresh scent hit him as he headed to the counter, untying his apron as he went. He spotted Party Poison reading a book at one of the tables. Kobra waved to him, then called to Sumiko, who was handing a customer packaged sushi over the counter.

“Hey,” Kobra said. “I’m going to clock out, okay? My brother and I are going to go eat before we hit the festival.”

Sumiko’s eyes widened. “Oh!” she said. “Wait! Hang on.” She closed the glass case and gestured for him to come forward. “Can you make one more delivery? Really quick? I’m sorry, we got it at the last minute.”

Kobra sighed inwardly, then started retying his apron as he walked to the counter. She handed him a white delivery box from the shelf behind the counter. A receipt was taped to the box with the address _Clearwater Hotel, Room 2A. Blackberry Street. Lantern District._

“Can you deliver it?” Sumiko said. “It won’t take long. It’ll only take about twenty minutes, I promise.”

Kobra pressed his lips together, then looked up. She was smiling too expectantly for him to say no.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

“Great! Thanks so much! And don’t forget to collect your tip!” she added before turning to the next customer.

Kobra held back a sigh as he headed to the table. Poison looked up, then marked the page and closed the book. Kobra caught a glimpse of a bright red cover as he stuffed it in his leather bag.

“Hey!” Poison said.

“Hey,” Kobra said. “Did you finish _Victory on the Winds_?”

Poison stood up and grabbed his bag. “Yeah, I finished it last night.”

“What’d you think?”

“Eh, it was pretty fucked up.”

Kobra laughed as they headed for the door. “Pretty fucked up?”

“Yeah. What Sprawl went through, I mean. Some of those gangs are fucking scary, man.”

“Well, they’ve lived in that shithole for years, haven’t they? I think it messes people up.”

“Yeah,” Poison said. “Yeah, it probably does.”

Hard evening sunlight glinted off the buildings as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. Strings of red lanterns hung between the buildings. Yellow banners flapped in the breeze. A crowd had already formed around the vendors setting up booths and laying out their wares: toys, cloth bags, jewelry, glossy magazines.

“Man, I don’t even know where this place is,” Kobra said. He glanced around, but the nearest signpost read _Waterfront Street_. The sign stirred something in his memory. “Hey,” he said. “Didn’t your class stay here for that art exhibition?”

Poison glanced at the address on the box. “Nah, that was the Hot Springs,” he said. “I think the Clearwater’s for HQ workers.”

“Is it?” Kobra said. “Shit, I don’t know. We better get a map.”

They searched the crowded street, then ducked into the nearest store. Small cakes and sweets were stacked inside cake domes that were arranged on glittering white fabric. Fake snow was sprayed around the windows. The walls glowed neon pink. Kobra’s stomach growled as he grabbed a map from the pamphlet rack, a sweet scent lingering in the air.

As he unfolded the map, a group of Japanese women poured through the entrance, their brightly colored kimonos swishing around them. He furrowed his brow and tried to concentrate as their conversations filled the air. Glass clinked, paper bags opened. The dots and lines all seemed to blend together into a tangled black scribble.

“I can’t concentrate,” he said quietly. “Here. Do you see it?”

Poison took the map from him. “What road am I looking for?” he said.

“Blackberry,” Kobra said.

Poison squinted at the map. He held it up to his face, then turned it back and forth. Kobra folded his arms and sighed inwardly. He was about to take the map to the counter when the door suddenly chimed open.

Kobra glanced up, then stopped. The women erupted in excited shouts. A stunned shock washed over him. As the woman stepped inside, his brain couldn’t process the information. He glanced over at Poison, who wore an identical look of shock. She seemed to have stepped out of a Battery City safety announcement, a mythical figure that had entered the real world.

In seconds, Scarecrow Flare was surrounded by a ring of kimono like colorful birds. Kobra craned his neck to see above the chattering women. Flare wore a padded white uniform with a gleaming white ray gun strapped to her hip. Her orange hair was evenly dyed and combed perfectly over her ears. She grinned as she shook hands with the women, revealing a mouthful of glittering white teeth.

“Well, thank you,” she said in the rush of adulation. “Thank you very much.”

“My parents were in the bank during the siege,” said a woman in a yellow kimono. “You saved their lives. I’ve wanted to thank you for so long. Thank so much.”

“You’re very welcome,” Flare said. “How are your parents? Are they doing well?”

“Oh, yes. They’re great. They’re really great.”

“That’s great. I’m glad to hear that.”

Flare’s voice ballooned with confidence, as if she were a movie star. She shook hands, signed autographs, and posed for pictures. When the crowd finally dispersed, Kobra watched as she bought a fish cake and a smoothie. She stuck the cake in her mouth and headed for the entrance. Kobra went tense. His mind raced for something to say, but every nerve in his body was drawn tight like string.

Flare looked over at the brothers as she passed. She raised her eyebrows in greeting. Then she stepped out into the crowd, letting the door slam shut behind her.

Kobra’s shoulders sank with relief. He turned to Poison. After a moment, they started laughing.

“Holy shit,” he said.

“I know!” Poison said. “She just walked right in here, man.”

“I should’ve thanked her,” Kobra said. “Shit. Dad’s going to be pissed if he finds out I didn’t thank her.”

“Just tell him you were caught off guard,” Poison said. “You panicked. We both did.”

Kobra ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s true.” He peered through the glass doors, but she had disappeared into the crowd.

“We’ll probably see her again,” Poison said. “I bet she’s here for the festival.”

“Yeah?” Kobra said. “Hope so, man. I want to thank her after that siege.”

After finally locating the Clearwater on the map, they started down the street again. The sky was dark. Shouts, music, and laughter filled the air. Lights glowed from the booths, illuminating their wares: cartoon character masks, stuffed toys, racks of clothing, books, posters, balloons floating in a tub of water.

The smell of fried food floated on the air. Kobra’s stomach growled as food popped and crackled on a grill behind one of the booths. But a crowd had already formed around the counter. He’d have to wait ten or fifteen minutes if he wanted to buy something.

Poison followed his eyes to the booth. “You want to get something to eat?” he said.

Kobra’s eyes lingered on the booth as they passed, but he shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “We don’t have time. I’ll get something when we come back.”

His stomach growled again as he spoke. He forced himself not to look at the delivery box, which suddenly weighed heavily in his hands. Maybe it held a bowl of ramen, with fresh noodles and slices of barbecued pork. Or sushi rolls filled with rice, fish, and vegetables. He would even take a box of onigiri, the rice balls that he normally thought were plain, but now seemed to be made of delicious salty rice stuffed with fish or pickled fruit…

“What did they order?” Poison said suddenly, as if he had read his mind.

Kobra looked up in surprise, then fumbled with the box until he pried the lid open. When he saw what waited inside, his hunger came into sharp focus. A bowl of steamed rice was nestled in Styrofoam tray, topped with colorful ingredients: sliced fish, whole shrimp, chunks of vegetables, bright orange fish eggs. He glanced at Poison, who shared his look of hunger. Immediately, Kobra knew they were thinking the same thing.

“You don’t think they’d notice, do you?” Poison said quietly. “I mean–just a couple of pieces?”

Kobra took a deep breath. He glanced around the crowd, as if a Draculoid would come barreling toward them any second. Then his empty stomach rumbled like thunder in a storm cloud.

“All right,” he murmured. “C’mon.”

They huddled under a toy store awning, where Kobra ate a slice of fish and Poison crunched one of the shrimps. They pinched a few fish eggs from the bowl. Then Kobra licked his fingers and closed the box. His hunger dulled, he turned to start down the road again. Suddenly Poison grabbed his arm. Kobra whipped around, his heart racing

“What?” he said. “What is it?” His eyes flashed around the crowd, searching for the telltale white uniform.

Poison laughed. “No!” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Look.”

He pointed to a flier taped to the wall. A picture of Sprawl was printed on the flier, his dark hair handsomely disheveled. He wore a toothy half-grin. Next to his picture was the following words:

 _MEET SCARECROW SPRAWL!_  
Book signing @ Booth 158  
10:00-10:30 (PM)  
Call extension #426 to reserve a spot.

Kobra stepped back, his heart racing with excitement. _Victory on the Winds_ lay in his room in their housing unit, a 200-page memoir that he had devoured in two days.

“Shit,” he said. “Oh, shit, man. We better hurry up. I’ve gotta get my book from the unit.”

All thoughts of hunger flew from his mind in a flash. The brothers hurried off down the road, Kobra clutching the box to his chest. Lights flashed past his face in red and yellow streaks. Music and laughter whipped through his ears in streamers of sound. As he rushed down the street, snippets of _Victory on the Winds_ ran through his head.

_Whenever we drove through the desert, it was a total rush, like I held the whole world in the palm of my hand. For once, I knew what the rebels must feel. It was freeing. We felt like we could conquer the planet. But we were serious, too. Because we knew what lay ahead. As soon as we hit the first road sign, the rebels would be out and shooting. And we’d be ready._

_“Go, go, go!” Flare shouted. We jumped out of the vehicle and lasers started flying. Korse instantly dispatched two of the rebels. I hit one in the arm, then jumped back behind a tree for protection. Flare started shooting into a tree. I was wondering what the hell she was doing until I saw two rebels hiding up there like a couple of apes. They tried to climb up the branches, but she kept firing until the leaves caught spark and fire raced up the branches._

_I dashed into the house. The outside was blackened with laser burns, and the inside wasn’t much better. Trash and rot was everywhere. The couch looked like it had been slashed with a pocketknife. Suddenly a girl shouted “Help! Help me!” I raced from room to room, calling “Becky! Becky! Where are you?” Then I spotted a tiny girl shivering on a mattress. She was still in her school uniform. I picked her up in my arms and looked for an escape._

Kobra was so caught up in Sprawl’s adventures that he nearly darted right past the Clearwater. Then Poison grabbed his arm, and he skidded to a halt. He stopped and looked up at the hotel. Tall glass doors loomed in front of him, revealing a sparkling blue-and-white interior. Blue lights glowed above the entrance.

“Man, it looks high-class,” Kobra said. “You think I should take off my apron?”

“What are you wearing underneath?” Poison said.

Kobra laughed. “What am I wearing? You want to know what I’m wearing?”

Poison laughed along. “Just tell  me, man.”

Kobra looked down at his clothes. Under his apron was a green Kiki Kikuchi’s shirt and a pair of dress pants.

“Just a T-shirt,” he said.

“Yeah?” Poison said. “Better leave it on, then.”

Kobra nodded, smoothing the front of his apron. He took a deep breath. Anxiety rattled through his nerves. He exchanged looks with Poison for reassurance. Then he steadied himself, positioned the box, and pushed open the glass doors.

A gust of cool air greeted him when he stepped inside. The floors were polished a gleaming white, reflecting the blue lights that glowed from the walls. Neat stacks of magazines rested on the glass tables. Suited men and women walked through the lobby, checked their tablets, waited in hard white chairs. Kobra stood transfixed at the doorway. He felt like a beggar that had stumbled into a mansion.

“Good evening, sir,” the receptionist said. “How may I help you?”

He jumped, then turned to the desk. “Oh!” he said. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I have a delivery for, uh–room 2A.”

“Room 2A, sir?”

“Right. Yeah.”

He showed her the address on the receipt. When she saw the address, her eyes widened. Then she sank back in her seat and picked up a black telephone.

“Unit 4B, we need you in the lobby,” she said.

Kobra’s stomach tightened. What had he done? He looked frantically around the lobby, but no one seemed to notice that anything was wrong. An icy chill rolled down his spine. Was he about to be arrested for stealing a few bites of someone else’s food?

The fear must have shown on his face, because the receptionist smiled reassuringly. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “We just have a Scarecrow official in room 2A. Protocol requires that all deliveries be checked for harmful materials.”

“Oh.” The anxiety drained away. He rubbed his face with his free hand. “Yeah. Right. I get it.”

A few moments later, two Draculoids appeared, sealed the delivery box in a plastic bag, and carried it to a back room. Kobra waited while a woman in a black suit purchased a room. When she was gone, he folded his arms on the receptionist’s desk and leaned forward.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “I know you probably can’t tell me, but–who’s in room 2A?”

The receptionist smiled. “I’m afraid that’s confidential information, sir,” she said.

“Yeah. That’s what I figured. Thank you.”

He stepped back, then folded his arms and waited for the Dracs to return. He pictured himself carrying the box to the room. When the door opened, Flare or Sprawl stood in the entrance. _I’m sorry_ , Kobra would say. _We met in the candy shop earlier. I was too scared to say anything. Or I loved your book, man. I read it in two days. My brother just finished it last night, too. Actually, he’s waiting right outside. If you give me a minute, I’ll run and get him–_

“You can take a seat, sir,” the receptionist said. “It might be a few minutes.”

Kobra blinked. “Oh,” he said. “Thank you.”

He crept over to the chairs and gingerly sat down. The woman sitting beside him wore a pressed white suit with black heels. Her hair was as shiny and perfectly coiffed as a wig. In his T-shirt and stained apron, Kobra felt like he was surrounded by a cloud of dust that would flake off and contaminate her.

He was trying to spot Poison through the glass doors when the woman beside him suddenly looked up. Then she stood up like a Draculoid at roll call. Kobra looked around to see that everyone was standing frozen in place. Even the receptionist had climbed to her feet. The anxiety started to crackle again. Then he saw who had stepped out of the elevator, and he jumped out of his seat in a bolt of electrifying fear.

Korse approached the front desk, his heavy layers and ruffled sleeves swishing as he walked. Kobra suddenly realized they were about the same height; he had always imagined Korse towering above him. But his face was washed-out and greyish, drained of personality, as if he had been carved from a block of concrete. Kobra shivered under his apron.

“Honorable Scarecrow Korse,” the receptionist said. “How may I assist you this evening?”

“Cancel my appearance,” Korse said. “I’ve been called out to duty.”

“Of course, sir,” she said. “Your evening meal arrived a few minutes ago. When it’s been processed, would you like us to deliver it to your room?”

“No,” he said. “Discard it. I won’t be back this evening.”

“I’m happy to do that, sir.”

 _Thank God_ , Kobra thought, his shoulders sinking with relief. He had frozen at the thought of what Korse would do if he noticed that a few pieces of fish were missing.

“Should I call for a transportation vehicle?” the receptionist said.

“No. I’ve already called one.”

“Of course, sir. I’m sure it will arrive momentarily.”

 _Christ_ , Kobra thought. _It can’t get here fast enough._

For the moment, the room seemed to have frozen still. It was nothing like the explosive excitement when Flare had walked into the sweet shop. The air was silent except for the sound of cars passing on the highway. Several people had averted their eyes, as if Korse were some kind of holy spirit. Nobody moved from their spot.

Then with the roar of an engine, a Scarecrow transportation vehicle pulled up to the hotel. Korse whisked off to the entrance. Kobra caught sight of a white ray gun in his holster, shining in the bright hotel lights.

_Korse instantly dispatched two of the rebels._

He fidgeted with his hands, burning with nervous energy. The doors slammed shut. The vehicle drove off. Then the people relaxed, sank back into their seats, and started talking quietly again. The receptionist sank back into her seat. A hint of tension still hung in the air, like a lingering smell.

“Excuse me, sir,” the receptionist said. “May I see your ID?”

Kobra blinked, then realized she was talking to him. He fished his ID out of his wallet. She scanned it, then handed it back to him.

“There’s your tip, sir,” she said. “I added a little extra, since he didn’t get to enjoy the food.”

“Oh,” Kobra said numbly. “Right. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Have a better day.”

She smiled at him, then dialed a number on the telephone. “Good evening,” she said. “This is Ms. Kimura from the Clearwater Hotel. May I speak to the Director of Festivities?”

In a daze, Kobra stumbled out onto the sidewalk. The street was dark except for the lights from the gas station across the street. He looked around for Poison, but he was gone. Kobra’s stomach churned. He wrapped his arms around himself, a cool night breeze rippling through the air.

“Gerard!” he shouted. His voice was strained with fear. “Hey! _Gerard!_ ”

Suddenly Poison burst out of the gas station. A plastic bag dangled from his arm. He hurried up to the sidewalk, his shoes clapping against the pavement.

“Hey!” he said. “I just saw Korse come out! What happened? Are you okay?”

Kobra rubbed his face with his hands. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m fine. He just got called out on duty.”

“Oh yeah?” Poison touched his arm. “What happened, kid? You’re so pale.”

“Nothing,” Kobra said. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just give me a minute.”

Poison led him over to a white rectangular bench, and they sat down. Kobra pushed his hair back from his face and took a few deep breaths. The coldness still clung to his insides like frostbite. When he heard the bag rustling, he turned to see Poison taking out two boxed sandwiches.

“I got some food while you were in there,” he said. He handed Kobra one of the sandwiches. As Poison started eating, Kobra fiddled with the plastic box in his lap. His appetite had shriveled away.

“Do you still want to do the book signing?” Poison said.

“No,” he said.

“No?” Poison said, turning to him in surprise.

Kobra shook his head. “I just–I don’t think he’ll be the person we imagined him to be, you know?”

“Jesus, kid, what happened in there?”

Kobra laughed shortly. “No, it’s just…” He struggled to find the right words. “Korse is scary, man. You know? I mean, he was this blunt, scary, pissed-off guy. And when I saw him, it hit me that he–goes out and kills people. I mean, I’m not saying the rebels don’t deserve it, but that’s what he does. He goes out and shoots people. He’s an executioner.”

Poison’s eyes were heavy. “Well, you know, kid, these people are terrorists–” he said gently.

“No. I know. But when I saw his gun, it just hit me that he’s killed people. And so have the other Scarecrows. These people that I used to watch in safety announcements when I was a kid have gone out and killed people.”

He broke off and looked away, rubbing his hands together. Poison watched him for a moment. Then he reached out and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, rubbing his arm.

“I know it’s hard to think about,” he said quietly. “Just try not to let it get to you too much. Okay?”

Kobra nodded. After sitting in silence for a while, they finished their sandwiches and started off down the street again. Music and laughter could be heard in the distance. But the memory of Korse lingered in his mind, a chill that he couldn’t shake off.


End file.
